


An Easy Hundred Bucks and At Least Three More Kinks

by dragonspell



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-31
Updated: 2009-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-11 18:16:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7902808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonspell/pseuds/dragonspell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's 23 and stuck at an empty bar in the middle of nowhere.  So he decides to play a little friendly game of pool with the only other person for miles.</p><p>
  <i>The guy likes me. Oh, he doesn’t like me per se, but he likes my body and that’s close enough. He thinks my mouth is too smart and fast but he also thinks it’s pretty and he likes my ass. I know how much he likes my ass because he won’t let me line up a shot at the table without copping a feel.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Easy Hundred Bucks and At Least Three More Kinks

**Author's Note:**

> Imported from Livejournal 8-28-16.

**Title:** An Easy Hundred Bucks and At Least Three More Kinks  
**Author:** [](http://dragonspell.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://dragonspell.livejournal.com/)**dragonspell**  
**Series:** Supernatural  
**Pairing:** OMC/Dean  
**Rating:** NC-17.  
**Warnings/Spoilers:** Rimming.  
**Summary:** Dean's 23 and stuck at an empty bar in the middle of nowhere. So he decides to play a little friendly game of pool with the only other person for miles.

 _The guy likes me. Oh, he doesn’t like_ me _per se, but he likes my body and that’s close enough. He thinks my mouth is too smart and fast but he also thinks it’s pretty and he likes my ass. I know how much he likes my ass because he won’t let me line up a shot at the table without copping a feel._

 **Word Count:** ~ 2950

  
The guy likes me. Oh, he doesn’t like _me_ per se, but he likes my body and that’s close enough. He thinks my mouth is too smart and fast but he also thinks it’s pretty and he likes my ass. I know how much he likes my ass because he won’t let me line up a shot at the table without copping a feel. Not that I’m complaining much because the guy—Steve? Sean? –really knows what he’s doing. His fingers start in a slow glide over my jeans, following the rounded curve I’m giving him before sliding in between my legs to press against my balls. It feels so damn good, I have to bite back a moan each time.

The deal is that if I win, I get the hundred dollars he’s slapped down (he’s cute enough that I didn’t press for more) and if he wins… Well, he gets to keep that hundred and me too. As talented as the guy’s hands are, I’m sorely tempted to lose on purpose.

Only Dad didn’t raise me to lose and the Impala could use a tune-up. But I might just have to let him have a taste of what he wants so bad. Just so there’s no hard feelings or anything.

It’s been three weeks since I’ve managed to have time to get laid. Hell, screw getting laid, the schedule Dad’s been keeping us on, I’ve barely managed to even jerk off. It’s like the man is super-human and doesn’t understand the concept of needing a little relief now and then. Go figure that the place he finally dumps me in while he goes out on a one-night solo because I may or may not have sprained my ankle on the last hunt is an empty freaking bar with an attached motel in the middle of nowhere. I’m pretty sure there’s not a single woman for at least 50 miles in any direction. Swear to God, not even a hooker. I say may or may not because it hurt like a motherfucker when I did it but it went away fast. I overplayed it, hoping Dad would let us have some downtime but no. The man is clearly an asshole.

I can guarantee that he dropped me off here because he’d thought there wouldn’t be any “distractions” around and I could heal up quick. Lucky for me, Dad doesn’t know that I’ll occasionally do guys. If they’re pretty enough—hell, what am I talking about? It’s dick size that matters with guys, right?

The guy attached to my ass—Sean, his name’s definitely Sean—is actually the bartender of this shithole and I’m his only freaking customer tonight. He’s not a chick, but he’s certainly not bad looking with black hair falling into his amazingly blue eyes and being built like a brick shit house. I’m tempted to ask him what he’s doing here wasting his life away instead of, say, out in California getting rich with a few photographs and some contracts with a modeling agency but I probably don’t want to know the answer. Probably wouldn’t even remember if he told me.

My buzz is still pretty damn heavy. Sean’s not stingy with his pours and ever since he read my frustration loud and clear, he’s been giving me freebies. ‘Cause yeah. Dean Winchester never pays for his drinks when the bartender’s cute. I only pay for their time, all my money going straight into their tip jar.

“You gonna take your shot?” he asks me, all sweet concern even as his left hand’s caressing my balls through my jeans.

I push myself into his touch, liking the smile he gives me in return, and wink at him. Then, with all the focus I can muster with my cock throbbing between my legs, I take the shot. I sink the 7 and the 5 and he gives my ass a rewarding pat like it’s the one that just did all that work. Not that I mind. “That was lucky,” he says. I nod and wiggle my ass against his hand before straightening to find my next shot.

He follows me around the table, not leaving my side for an instant and when I bend over, his hips are suddenly connected to mine. I groan at the feel of his hard dick settling between my cheeks, wondering just how big it is and just how awesome it’s going to feel inside me.

For once, I’m so fucking glad the bar is empty because at the rate we’re going, we’re going to be fucking on the pool table before the game is done. His hips thrust shallowly against me and it’s all I can do not to throw the cue stick away and beg him to fuck me.

Instead of doing that, though, I just tap him with the stick and rasp that he should move so I don’t hit him. He does, sliding off to the side, but his hand never leaves my jeans, slipping down between my legs to cup me. I spread wider to give him room because yeah, that feels fucking nice.

I’ve got to finish this fast because I know I’m just not going to last—not with the expert way he’s feeling me up. I sink three more in a row and glance over my shoulder when I feel his groping start to lose some of its insistence. I’ve only got one more solid left on the table and then the 8 ball to go. I swallow and sink the 1 in a smooth shot. “Un-fucking-believable,” he hisses. He’s getting mad but hey, this game was all his idea anyway.

“8 ball, corner pocket,” I call and can just feel his hope that I’ll miss. Unfortunately, luck isn’t on Sean’s side tonight. It’s not even in the building. The 8 ball slides home, straight as a fucking arrow.

“God fucking damn—” I turn on Sean before he can finish cursing, scoot my ass onto the table and spread my legs. I grab his hands and yank him close, putting his hot, talented digits on my aching dick before I grab his hair and pull him down for the kiss I’ve been thinking about ever since I walked into this God-forsaken dump.

Sean, thank Christ, might not be able to smell a shark in the water but he is quick enough to catch on to this. He gives my dick a hard rub and then brings his solidly muscled arms up to hold me tight against him as he takes possession of the kiss. He tongue slides into my mouth like it was meant to be there, measuring for fucking curtains already. Even though I’m the one that started it, by the time we break apart, _I’m_ the one who’s out of breath. I shiver and lick my lips as I stare at his arms holding me in place. “God…” I moan and wiggle in his grasp, not trying to escape but instead just feeling his strength.

Sean’s starting to pant too and I can feel his cock digging into my inner thigh. He looks a little confused though, so I decide to clear things up for him. Reaching under his arms, I snatch up the hundred dollar bill and hold it up in front of him. “This is mine,” I say and shove it into my pocket before laying down across the pool table. He lets me go, his hands slipping to my arms and I grab both of them, sliding them down and underneath my body. I plant them both firmly on my ass and spread my legs as far as I can manage in my jeans. “This is yours,” I say.

He nods, a rueful smile playing at his lips. “Hundred’s not a bad price for an ass like this,” he says and squeezes the ass in question. I moan and press into his hands as I start fumbling for my belt. My pants need to come off as in yesterday. He laughs and helps me, unlacing and tugging off my boots. “You need to be a lot more naked,” he tells me. Yes. Yes, I do. Thank you, Sherlock.

I finally manage to unzip my fly and I rip my two shirts over my head in one move. Sean tugs at my jeans, yanking them off my hips, off my legs, and onto the floor. I didn’t bother wearing underwear today—laundry’s another thing Dad hasn’t had time for lately—so now I’m laying naked on a pool table, ready to get fucked by a Grade A piece of prime hunk. I moan and hump the air.

“So eager,” he hisses and leans over. “So pretty…” He licks under my jaw and I fucking whine because I can’t help it. He nibbles his way down my throat, finding every sensitive spot I didn’t know I had. I don’t know how he freaking got a copy of my personal user manual but it’s like he knows every little area that will make me shake and shudder. His hands don’t keep still either, smoothing up and down my sides and my arms, moving it to twist my nipples in a delicious surge of pleasure filled pain. I whine and my hips keep churning against the air, looking for friction that he won’t give me.

I throw an arm over my face, biting into the skin of my arm to try and stifle the embarrassing noises coming out of my throat but he uses it as an invitation to lick at the sensitive skin of my arm pit. I jerk away from his wiggling tongue, feeling half turned on and half scandalized by the action. “Bastard,” I gasp.

He nips my stomach. “You should watch your language,” he jokes and before I can come up with a good comeback, his lips are moving down between my legs and I could really care less who’s coming out on top in the verbal insults.

I whine and try to get him to touch that talented mouth to my dick but he’s not having anything of it. He carefully circles around it, sucking kisses into the soft skin of my groin but not touching the throbbing hardness in the center.

My hands sink into his hair and I try to force him upward but he ignores me. “God, come on,” I beg. “For God’s sake, stop fucking teasing…”

His mouth lifts away from my skin and I open my eyes, unaware that I’d ever even closed them. He meets my dazed expression with a smirk. “No more teasing,” he says and grips my legs hard. He folds me in two like a damn pretzel but before I can tell him I’m not exactly a gymnast, his tongue is flicking at my hole.

It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before—wet and wiggling and setting my nerves on fire. I’ve been with guys before, but none of them have ever done this before and I’m fucking kicking myself for all the wasted time. My dick is about ready to burst, it feels so fucking good and I lose whatever self-awareness I had left. I writhe against his tongue, helpless against the sensations he’s surging through me, and I beg him to “fuck me, please fuck me, please let me come. Oh GOD, please let me come! Please, please, please…” I keep trying to say words after that, but they don’t come out right because his tongue thrusts into my hole and I’m just fucking gone.

I’m flying on fucking Cloud 9 without the uppers and I’m about to come untouched for the first damn time in my life. My orgasm is coming up like a freight train and I start to sob because I just can’t handle it.

That’s when the bastard pulls away. I groan in disappointment and he just laughs at me. “Did you like that?” he asks and I thrash against the table, desperate with the need to come. “Easy,” he says. “Easy. Just relax, pretty baby. Just relax.” Because, yeah, that’s fucking easy to do when you’re entire body’s throbbing in time with your cock and your balls are so tight it’s a wonder they’re even still there. “You’re gonna want to relax for this,” he croons and my mind snaps back together enough to understand what he’s saying.

I throw my legs out to the side and lift my hips, begging him to do it. Where the fuck he got the lube I have no idea, I just know that his cock is sliding in, hard and sweet and filling me up completely.

I pant and whine and clench around him just to hear him hiss. “So fucking tight…” he says and I drag him down to devour his mouth. He thrusts, pumping his hard cock into me, and I break away to keen because of how damn good it feels. “I should have known how sweet this ass would be,” he pants. “Fucking made of sugar….”

He starts slamming into me, his balls smacking my ass on each thrust, the table rocking against the floor, and I’m being shoved farther away from him. “Get back here,” he rasps and drags me back into his hard, punishing thrusts.

Without warning, he pulls out and flips me. It’s only my fast instincts that keep me from smacking my jaw against the felt. That’s not nearly good enough for him, though, and he drags me off the table until just my chest is resting against it and my feet are on the floor. “Better,” he says and slams back into me. I gasp and shove back against him because this new angle? Totally working for me. “That’s it,” he groans. “Yeah, that’s it.” I arch my back and find his rhythm.

His hand smacks against my ass, the stinging slap echoing in the empty bar, and I jump as the pain blossoms against my skin. “Fuck!” I gasp. It’s not fucking right, but the slap is going straight to my dick. He hits me again, harder and I cry out but I stick my ass out more for him because Christ, anything he wants. He spanks me one more time and I come.

I scream as I jizz the side of the table, my orgasm wrenching out of me as I come so hard it’s almost painful. He keeps fucking me, speeding up, and it’s drawing out my own climax until I’m fucking drained dry but I’m still convulsing. Aftershocks twinge along my nerves and he finally comes, thrusting hard, sending me reeling against the table as he pumps his load into my ass.

I shake against the table, my body too boneless to even hold myself up and all I can think is thank God he found a condom. I’d forgotten about it completely but since I’m not feeling his creamy spunk spreading inside of me, I’m desperately hoping that him wearing a condom’s the reason. The last thing I need is to be picking Sean’s jizz out of my ass when Dad comes by to get me.

I can’t bring myself to regret anything though, because damned if that wasn’t one of the best orgasms of my freaking life. It ranks right up there with Jennifer Marlee back when I was 19 and that’s fucking saying something.

Sean pulls out, his hands lingering on my back and I arch into his touch and purr. “Was it good?” he asks and I try to answer but nothing besides “guh” will come out. He laughs. “Guess so,” he says.

I jerk as I feel a soft touch at my sore ass and Sean’s hand rubs a circle on my back. “Easy,” he coaxes. “Easy. Just a towel. Let’s just get you cleaned up before this stuff gets uncomfortable, yeah?” And I’m fucking touched despite myself. I bury my head in my arms under the pretense of exhaustion but it’s really to hide my blush. I’m not fucking used to ‘being taken care of’ after sex. I think I might kind of like it.

I spend the night in Sean’s bed instead of the motel Dad had expected me to, but hey, fifty bucks saved is fifty bucks earned, right? And he doesn’t need to know. Besides, the round of sex at 4 a.m. that Sean wakes me up for is totally, completely worth it. He licks me out for hours and I know I’ve found a new goal in life because I’m pretty sure I could live with being rimmed for every waking minute from now till Doomsday. After that, he fucks me with a toy that vibrates and blows my fucking mind while he watches and grins. I call him a kinky bastard and he spanks me before jerking off on my face.

Dad shows up around 10, the rumble of the Impala unmistakable, and thank Christ it’s after I managed to finally grab a shower (and be fucked again and grab another shower). I’m fairly certain Dad wouldn’t shoot Sean for bedding his 23 year old son, but I don’t think I could stand the awkward silences in the car.

Sean smirks at Dad when he ducks into the bar just long enough to yell for me to get my ass in the car. He thinks it’s my sugar daddy come to collect me and I don’t bother to correct his assumption. Instead I just let him wave goodbye to my too smart but pretty mouth and even prettier ass as I walk away with at least three more kinks and an easy hundred bucks.  



End file.
